Unfaithful

by Devon Scott

  She holds a small vase filled with mini carnations, orange gerbera daisies, orange spray roses, and yellow poms. Nice arrangement. Safeway bought. She can hear the security guard on the phone with Carly or someone from her office. He enunciates the word “flowers,” then says, “I don’t know…doesn’t say.” He hangs up a second later.

  “Miss Delivery Woman, Mrs. Juliet is on her way down.”

  Reese moves the flowers out of her face and mouths, “Thank you.”

  He glances to the left and right before uttering, “You should lace me with your digits. Brutha would love to call you sometime.” A flash of platinum teeth.

  Her mood sours.

  “My man would not be amused,” she retorts.

  Security guard doesn’t miss a beat.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  Reese sighs audibly.

  A moment later, Carly sweeps through the double doors. Reese sizes her up: butterscotch skin, short, flat-ironed hair, thin waist, smallish breasts. The attire surprises her. Jeans, off-white wool sweater, tan boots. She expected an Ann Taylor fitted suit. Guess folks behind the camera can wear whatever they want.

  Carly’s gaze settles on her and the flowers in her lap; she frowns.

  “I’m Carly Juliet. These are from?”

  She stands, thrusts the vase into Carly’s hands, and reaches into the back pocket of her jeans, extracting an envelope.

  “Your husband, Ryan.”

  “Figures,” Carly hisses. She turns with flowers in hand, dismissing this delivery woman without a second thought, when she is halted by a hand to her elbow.

  “You need to hear this. Your husband wanted me to make sure you got this.”

  “Got what?” Carly asks.

  She pulls the card out of the envelope, flips it open, and holds it at eye level for her to read. Carly’s eyes grow wide.

  “This: Your husband doesn’t want you anymore. Know why? Because he’s got a new, sexy young thing. That’s right—I’m your man’s woman now. And he don’t need a my-shit-don’t-stink, I-can’t-satisfy-my-man prissy bitch like you. Ryan’s traded you in for a newer model!”

  Carly steps back, taking a defensive posture.

  “Who do you think you are, showing up at my job, bitch?”

  “I’m Ryan’s new squeeze who’s claiming what’s rightfully mine. So cease these games you be playing; he don’t want you. He don’t want to be married to your ass no more. That’s why he’s fucking me now.”

  Carly is staring at Reese as if she’s just spotted a six-inch long centipede.

  “Did you know he fucked me in the ass? Oh yeah—Ryan loves him some Reese-ass!”

  Carly rears back and flings the flower vase at Reese. It smacks her in the chest before careening to the floor. The carpet breaks its fall; the glass, thankfully, doesn’t shatter. Still, water splashes at Reese’s feet as carnations, orange gerbera daisies, and roses scatter around her.

  “BITCH, no you didn’t!” Reese screams.

  Several things happen simultaneously.

  The security guard jumps into action, bolting around the shining desk.

  Carly moves backwards, ID card swiped as the double doors fling open.

  She is through them in an instant.

  As they close behind her, she turns and smirks at Reese who stands there, mouth agape, a mess of flowers and an empty vase gathered at her drenched ankles as Carly mouths two words, FUCK YOU.

  Then she is gone, making Reese look like the fool she is.

  Olivia answers on the second ring.

  “It’s Carly.”

  Short pause.

  “Hey, girl.” Relief mixed with trepidation.

  “How’s Miles?”

  “He had an uneventful night, so that’s a good thing. Right now, we’re taking things day by day.”

  “I understand. Tell him I was asking about him.”

  “I will.”

  Longer silence.

  “You have lunch plans? There’s something I need to share with you.”

  Olivia mulls over her request.

  “I do, but I’ll cancel them.”

  “I’ll meet you in an hour—usual spot.”

  Olivia hangs up and breathes a sigh not filled with relief.

  Ninety minutes later, Olivia and Carly sit facing each other over a small table in the back of a Chinese restaurant. A pot of green tea is positioned between them. Small ceramic mugs steam in front of them. They order perfunctorily, then wait for the waitress to leave, giving them privacy.

  Carly begins without preamble.

  “There’s something you need to know,” she says.

  “Okay.” Olivia places her palms flat on the table-top, as if bracing for bad news.

  “I had a conversation with Ryan the other night—after we visited Miles in the hospital.”

  “Okay.”

  “That was the first time we’ve had a chance to really talk, and I found out some things that concern you. I think you should know, since they involve you and your marriage.”

  Olivia gulps. Gone is the outward confidence. All that’s left is a scared little girl. She nods for Carly to continue.

  “The night of the party, you and Ryan had intimate contact.”

  Olivia’s lips are mashed together. She signals her agreement by nodding silently.

  “What you don’t know is that Ryan came back upstairs after Miles interrupted the two of you. He waited for things to quiet down, then crept back to the first floor, expecting you to do the same.”

  Olivia’s eyebrow arches.

  “Someone did meet Ryan on the first floor. It was dark, very late—the rest of us seemingly fast asleep. I know I was passed out. Perfect conditions to consummate your relationship.”

  Olivia’s brow furrows.

  “But we didn’t consummate anything. I’ve already told you that.”

  “Yes, but Ryan did. He had oral sex. He let someone go down on him.” Carly pauses to let the weight of her words sink in. “It was dark. Ryan thought it was your mouth on him…but it wasn’t.”

  Olivia’s mouth is agape.

  “It was Miles. Your husband.”

  “Ohmigod,” her words whispered.

  Carly watches Olivia’s face shudder. She can see that the news goes deep, hitting hard. She did not know. This much Carly is certain.

  “This explains…”

  “What?” Carly asks.

  Olivia glances away, then back at Carly.

  “Ryan kept talking about what happened after the party. This is what he was referring to. Jesus!”

  “Yup. Fucked up, don’t you think?”

  Olivia slurps at her tea. Gestures to the waitress. She appears, and Olivia orders something stronger.

  Far stronger.

  She’s shaking her head peevishly.

  “One more thing…Ryan and I are through. He told me about his new muse, a twenty-something ghetto bitch who had the nerve to show up at my job this morning.”

  “Ohmigod, are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack. The bitch can have him ’cause I don’t want him. As I told him last night, he’s a free agent. I’m granting him his single status. So there you have it.”

  Carly raises her mug to her lips and finishes her tea. She plants it on the table, rises, and places a twenty down.

  “I’ve lost my appetite, Olivia, but this should cover it.”

  Her used-to-be best friend glances up, tears watering her eyes.

  “Carly, I’m so sorry…”

  “Yeah. Don’t I know it?”

  Chapter 36

  Tyler opens his front door and grins.

  “Was wondering when I’d see you again.”

  “Is this a bad time?” she asks.

  “’Course not. I’m always delighted to see you.” Tyler gestures for Carly to enter. She remains there, holding onto the handle of her travel bag.

  “Tyler, I hate to barge in on you like this, especially at this late hour, but someth
ing’s come up.”

  “Carly, get your ass in here! It’s late and it’s cold outside.”

  She walks inside as Tyler closes the door behind her. Warm air assaults her.

  “You’re right. Damn, it is cold out there!”

  “So, what’s up?” he asks, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Carly reaches for him and hugs him tight for a moment, enjoying the way his body feels against hers.

  “Shit’s all messed up,” she says, pulling back. Tyler takes her hand and leads her into the living room. They sit on the couch overlooking the dark fireplace. “After everything that’s happened with me and my husband, the bitch he’s been sleeping with had the nerve to show up at the job today.”

  “What the fuck? Carly, I’m so sorry.” He takes her hand in his.

  “I know. It’s so damn ghetto; I’m still having trouble believing it myself. She had the nerve to taunt me in the lobby of BET! Can you believe that? Anybody who exhibits that kind of behavior is definitely out to lunch. Bottom line is this—I don’t trust the bitch as far as I can throw her. If she has balls enough to come to my job, then she might try to mess with me at home. I’m not taking any chances.”

  “You’re doing the absolute right thing. I told you before, you’re welcome here for as long as you want or need a place to stay.”

  “I appreciate it, Tyler. I’d just feel better staying somewhere other than my house for a couple of evenings. Let things calm down, you know? Plus, I want Ryan to get his shit out by the weekend, and I don’t want to hear him whining.”

  “Carly, it’s better that you don’t go home. You have no idea how crazy this woman is. Have you contacted the police?”

  “No, not yet. I don’t have any info on her. I was planning on calling Ryan and telling him to keep his bitch on a leash. Wanted to settle in here first, though.”

  “Whatever you need…I got you, Carly!”

  “Tyler, you’re wonderful.” She grins. “Listen, about the other night…”

  Tyler cocks his head to the side, giving her his full attention.

  “You were wonderful, Tyler, just what the doctor ordered.”

  “Okay…”

  “But right now, I don’t need or want the complication of a relationship—not when my life is literally a freaking mess—a nightmare, more like it. I really dig your company, and you’ve been an angel to me during my time of need. But sex is going to complicate things and I can’t deal with further complications right now.”

  “Understood.”

  “Do you? I’d rather not stay here if this is going to be…difficult. I mean, I was a full participant the other night, and the things you did to me felt so damn good, but I don’t want you thinking it’s going to happen again.”

  “Carly, what you need is a friend right now…a shoulder to cry on. I’m that person you can count on. I’m that friend. So don’t worry a second longer. I hear you, and I promise I won’t do anything to complicate your life further.”

  “Thank you, Tyler. You truly are the best!”

  She hugs him close for a moment before patting his cheeks playfully.

  “I know. Don’t forget it!”

  Tyler stands and gestures upstairs.

  “Your bedroom is as you left it. If you need anything, and I mean anything, don’t hesitate to let me know.” He walks to the staircase, settling his hand on the banister. “And if you do change your mind—you know, if you happen to have a late-night change of heart—I believe you know where to find me.”

  Tyler winks at Carly.

  “Consider me a friend,” he adds, before ascending the staircase, out of view.

  “Yeah,” Carly says under her breath, “that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  He descends the stairs to The Rhyme, adjusting his eyes to the indigo light that seems to seep from behind the bar. He spots Reese immediately—how can he not? She’s wearing the pink Von-Dutch baseball tee—the same one she was wearing the first night he stumbled in here—except tonight, she’s donned a baseball cap that looks sexy as hell. Her oversize breasts give the impression that they are reaching out for him, calling his name—and for a split second, he feels the pulse in his pants race, feels the tightening of his manhood against denim fabric. He considers fucking her just for old times’ sake, but then regroups, reconsiders this course of action.

  He’s not here for that.

  Up to the bar, a scowl on his face.

  She wears the same.

  “Well, well…look what the cat dragged in,” she says, taunting him.

  “Reese.”

  “What can I get for you, Ryan? You here because you missed me?” Reese laughs at her own words.

  He begins, skipping pleasantries.

  “I want you to leave Carly alone. Going to her job wasn’t cool, and it won’t be tolerated. So here’s a warning to you—quit that shit now before things heat up.”

  “Or what, Ryan? What are you or Mrs. Juliet gonna do? Kick my ass? Report me to the authorities? Do I look like I give a fuck?”

  “Look, Reese,” Ryan leans in, “this has nothing to do with her, so leave her out of it. Okay?”

  “Please! It has everything to do with her,” she hisses, head down low so the other bar patrons don’t hear. “I need for her to know who she’s dealing with. And you, too, I guess, ’cause it appears your memory ain’t all that swift.”

  “I’m not interested in hashing this out with you, Reese. I’m asking you nicely—but I’m only gonna ask you once—leave Carly alone before things escalate to the next level. And I don’t think you want to go there. Leave it alone, Reese. Leave my wife alone before a side of me you’ve never seen before emerges.”

  “I just love it when you’re all hot and bothered.” Reese is mere inches from his face now. “Makes my love box all wet.”

  “You’re a freak, you know that?” he retorts, pushing back from the bar.

  “You have no idea.”

  Ryan is halfway to the stairs when she yells, “Damn shame about your friend, Miles.”

  He pauses in mid-step, turning to face her, his face reddening.

  “He really should have been watching his back. You and that pretty little wife of yours need to do the same.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Ryan takes a step towards her.

  “It’s a crazy world out there, Ryan, all I’m saying.”

  Their eyes meet, stares lock.

  Neither one blinks.

  “Not safe at all. You’d be wise to remember that,” she says, before whirling around to tend to other patrons.

  Three days later, the phone rings once…twice…three times. On the fourth ring, the answering machine picks up.

  “Hey, Ryan, it’s Luther. I misplaced your cell number, so I’m leaving you a message at home.

  “I’ve got the 411 you requested last week. Give me a call back when you get a chance and I’ll share the particulars. Some interesting stuff, to say the least, so holla! Kisses to the lovely missus. Peace out.”

  That evening, Carly listens to the message.

  Hits rewind.

  Plays it again.

  And without remorse, hits delete.

  Poof.

  Message erased.

  Just like that.

  PART FOUR

  Chapter 37

  Seven months later…

  He stands at the crowded bar, yelling his order, a black and tan, to be heard over the din of patrons. He’s at Blue Fin on Broadway and 47th Street, surrounded by an attractive after-work, pre-curtain crowd that’s snug in the all-glass corner bar with its view of Times Square. The music is trip–hip hop and loud. He’s alone, dressed smartly in a dark gray, four-button suit with an open-collared blue shirt. His shoes are polished and his cuff links shine in the twilight. He nods to the bartender, an anorexic Asian woman with jet black hair that descends straight to her ass like one of those Caribbean waterfalls. He takes a sip and moves off to find a place to sit.

  Ryan is both tired and invigora
ted.

  Tired because of an all-day meeting across town he’s just returned from. Invigorated because he’s finally done, it’s Friday, and he decided on the spur of the moment to extend his time here in New York—at least for another night. He has nothing to go home to, so why not?

  He’d pulled off his tie, ran some water over his face, and came here. The night is young, and New York City always makes him tingle with that special something—as if all the energy from outside the pane is being infused into his veins this very instant.

  Seven months.

  God, how time has flown.

  As Ryan scans the crowd, meeting the eyes of several attractive women, he takes a moment to recount what’s transpired.

  Things with Carly have gone nowhere.

  She stuck to her guns and made him leave their home. He found a one bedroom in Northeast that’s Metro-accessible and close to a bunch of eateries and nightlife. Not that he’s taken advantage of the nightlife, but it’s nice to know those things are close by.

  They speak very infrequently—he and his wife. At first, he was calling her nonstop, but after several weeks of her not returning his calls, Ryan gave up.

  Her pregnancy is going as expected.

  Reese—he hasn’t seen or talked to her since that night he confronted her at The Rhyme. Moving on…both of them…

  The job is going well. He’s managed to pour his energy back into work, much to the delight of the president and his staff. He and Olivia are cordial in front of the worker bees, but gone are the days when they were close buddies.

  Miles?

  Ryan hasn’t seen him in months. He knows he’s basically healed, but the two of them just don’t speak anymore.

  Nothing to talk about, as far as Ryan is concerned.

  So, here he is…Friday night, Manhattan, a delightful night full of possibilities laid out in front of him, if he would even consider them.

  Ryan is thankful for the time alone. Time to get on with his life…time to think about Ryan and his own needs. His future. His happiness.